


You'll be In My Heart

by CountrygalxHetalia



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Brothers, Disney Songs, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-28 23:38:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountrygalxHetalia/pseuds/CountrygalxHetalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting America before France was the least of Arthur's problems. What happens between the brothers when Europe wants England to have nothing to do with him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	You'll be In My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> England and America are brothers in this and nothing but brotherly love appears. Do enjoy!

“I’ve heard enough!” Arthur said loudly stopping France in his tracks. The nation stared at England with wide blue eyes. “I’m going for a walk,” he said, walking briskly to the exit of France’s cabin.

“Oh no you don’t you-” Francis began, grabbing hold of Arthur’s wrist. He simply snatched it out of them Frenchman’s hold.

“I’m not going to look for the boy,” he growled, glaring over his shoulder at France. “I simply want to go for a walk and clear my head you bloody prat.” He threw the door open and left, leaving behind a very suspicious Francis.

He stalked though the small settlement until he came to the forest. He ploughed through the underbrush, not even caring where he was going. _Git_ , he thought, _that boy is mine!_ Arthur truly wasn’t going to look for the child, but he just had to get away from France for the time being. He was sick and tired of hearing  
France going on and on about how he was going to find America and made him his own.

Arthur shuddered and came to a large clearing in the woods. He looked around as the cool morning breeze blew through his short blonde hair. He sighed loudly and let himself fall back and land on his rear. He brought his legs up and crossed his arms over his knees.

“There’s no way I’m going to be able to find him this forest. He, without a doubt, knows the place better than any of us,” he sighed frustratedly and flopped onto his back. He closed his eyes and just listened to the sounds around him. The grass rustling and the wind blowing through the trees.

“W-who are you?” a small voice asked softly. England’s bright green eyes flew open but other than that he didn’t move. He turned his head slowly to the side to see little America staring at him curiously with big, sky blue eyes, but tensed and ready to run if need be. The boy couldn’t be any older than three or four.

“Hi there,” the older nation replied turning his head back so he could stare at the clouds over head. As much as he wanted to snatch the little nation up, he knew America would just run and he would never have another chance like this. “My name’s Arthur.” America watched England and walked forward cautiously. “I’m also known as England though.”

“I’m America,” the boy said. Arthur turned his head once more and grinned at the young country. America returned the smile, revealing bright white teeth.

“What’s your real name?” he asked, suddenly very curious about the boy’s history. America’s eyebrows scrunched together as he thought.

“I… I don’t know. I don’t think I have one,” he said, rubbing his head distractedly. Arthur’s eyes widened slightly. The poor child couldn’t remember his name, or if he even if he had a name. Arthur felt his heart ache for the poor child, but he tried pushing it away. He couldn’t afford to love. Everyone he had ever loved always ended up leaving him or pushing him away. He couldn’t afford another break in his heart, which was already cracked beyond recognition. He sat up slowly so as not to frighten the child.

“Well that won’t do. We’ll just have to give you one, won’t we?” England said, smiling warmly down at America. “Come here,” he said gently and motioned for the little boy to come closer. The child’s eyes widened and he back up a little, nearly tripping on his long gown. Arthur panicked internally for a moment. “I won’t hurt you,” he said quickly, “I promise.” America thought a moment, looking Arthur over. Normally he was being chased by now, but this guy hadn’t even tried to attack him. He nodded slowly to himself and stumbled forward towards the Brit. “That’s it.”

America quivered a bit as he stood in front England. The older nation looked him over and leaned back on his hands.

“How about Alfred?” he asked finally. The little boy quirked an eyebrow, his bright, too blue eyes staring questioningly at Arthur.

“Al… fred?” he asked hesitantly. England nodded, leaning forward to look the small nation in the eyes.

“Mhm, Alfred F. Jones,” he stated proudly. America mulled it over a moment before deciding several things at once in his head. He definitely liked the name. He didn’t know why, maybe the way it sounded. He also decided to trust England. He was sorta creepy and kinda scary at times, but he was really kind and sweet when he wanted to be, like now. He felt some hollowness inside him fill at the thought of Arthur taking care of him.

“I like it!” he cried happily and leapt at the Brit. Arthur’s eyes widened as he caught Alfred. “Thank you!” He wrapped his tiny arms around the country’s neck. Arthur was shocked for a moment, the dull ache in his heart becoming unbearably painful. _No. I can’t._ He blinked a few times before finally smiling shakily and standing, holding the child in his arms.

“You’re welcome Alfred,” he said. “So, how would you like to be my brother, hm?” Alfred pulled back and looked at the older nation, awestruck. _Brothers?! I’ll finally have someone to play with and take care of me! I won’t have to be by myself anymore!!_

“Really?” he asked, his blue eyes full of childish wonder and innocence. Arthur nodded, starting his trek back to his camp.

“Yep. We’ll be brothers forever,” he said, smiling at the tiny child in his arms. _He’s so trusting and innocent. What if I can’t do it? What I can’t take care of him? What if I’m not everything he needs me to be?_ He tried and tried to push away the flurry of thoughts that raced through his head, making him slightly dizzy. He was brought back to reality by the warmth of Alfred relaxing in his arms. He chuckled as the small nation snuggled into his chest.

“And ever and ever,” the boy chanted sleepily as he settled into the arms of his now older brother. “I love you Arthur,” he mumbled thickly. Arthur stopped dead in his tracks, his heart bursting with overflowing emotion.

It rushed through his chest and limbs, filling him with a pleasant burning sensation. He felt so much. So much that he had refused to feel in years. He’d blocked out anything but the anger towards other nations. Anger and vicious sarcasm had been his only defense against people wanting to be close to him, but Alfred had broken some kind of barrier. The little boy uttering those three simple words, made him have to blink back tears. His heart was whole, not shattered and broken anymore.

He wouldn’t let his past interfere anymore. What his own brothers had done to him didn’t matter anymore. It was all long ago and he didn’t want to be so cold and emotionless anymore. He didn’t want anger to be the only thing he felt. Arthur wiped his eyes and held Alfred up with one arm. He looked down at the little nation, his heart swelling with love.

“I… I love you too, Alfred,” he mumbled softly, finally wiping away the last of his tears. The child smiled as he fell asleep in Arthur’s arms. “I love you…” he whispered again. He started walking back to the settlement, little America held tightly in his arms.

He made it back with no problems and the moment he appeared, France stepped out of his cabin.

“Arzur! It’s about you…” he trailed off as he saw England and the prize he clutched possessively in his arms.

“He found me,” the Brit said simply, smirking at Francis and making his way to his own large log house. He chuckled darkly under his breathe, relishing the feeling of finally beating France. France was indeed, left very upset and very flustered behind him. Arthur made his way back to his bedroom and laid America on his own large bed.

“Sweet dreams Al,” he whispered and kissed him on the head.

~

“Artie!! Artie!” Alfred cried, jumping up and down on Arthur’s large bed. England groaned loudly and turned over onto his back.

“Alfred…” he mumbled, throwing his arm over his tired, emerald eyes. “Good gracious Alfred. What time is it?” he asked the rambunctious child sleepily. America jumped on his stomach, making Arthur groan once again.

“I don’t know! But you need to get up!” he cried, wiggling and squirming around on poor Arthur. The much older nation finally uncovered his eyes to see weak morning light making its way through the curtains covering the many windows in his bedroom. He moved his green gaze down to meet Alfred’s bright blue, crystalline one. The child was still fidgeting on his stomach.

“And why, pray tell, would I need to get up at such an ungodly hour?” he asked as he sat up and put Alfred into his lap.

“Because,” Al looked up at him with his large, irresistible, blue puppy dog eyes. “I’m hungry.” England moaned internally and leaned back against his headboard.

“You are always hungry Alfred,” he said tiredly. America squirmed and crawled up Arthur’s torso so he was face to face with the country.

“Pleeeeeaaase!!” he begged. Arthur tried to glare back but ended up rolling his eyes. _Those bright blue eyes are going to be the death of me,_ he though, trying not to smile.

“Yes, yes! Get off me so I can get up,” he replied. Alfred jumped off his brother and onto the floor. Arthur threw the covers off himself and swung his legs off the edge of the bed. He saw America doing his own little happy dance on the cold hardwood floor. “Go on! Go downstairs and I’ll be right there,” he told the seven year old as he searched for a pair of loose fitting trousers. America ran over and hugged his legs as he yanked them up to his waist.

“Thank you England!” he said and rushed downstairs. Arthur shook his head and pulled his long nightgown over his head. He grabbed a shirt from a nearby desk chair and pulled it on only half buttoned and started down the stairs.

"Arthur!! Hurry up!” Alfred whined loudly. Arthur entered the small kitchen, sighed and running a pale hand through his unruly blonde hair. He saw Alfred running around the small area, his overly big nightgown dragging the floor. _How can he possibly have that much energy in the morning?_ He reached over and grabbed a tea kettle already filled with water and set it on the stove top. He let that begin to heat up as he grabbed a large frying pan and the ingredients needed to make breakfast and started cooking. Alfred came up behind and jumped onto one of England’s long lanky legs, making him stumble.

“Is it almost done?!” America asked hurriedly, staring up at the country. Arthur sighed, trying to remove the small nation from his leg.

“It will be soon,” he replied. “While you’re waiting you can run upstairs and put your trousers on.”

“Aw! But England!” the small boy complained. Arthur shook his head.

“Uh uh, no buts,” he said, “go on now.” He laughed as America sighed in defeat and trudged back upstairs. He finished cooking, amazingly it was only half burnt and still edible, and had breakfast on the table as Alfred walked back downstairs. He was now dressed in dark trousers, a loose, white button up and a leather vest. “It’s ready!” Alfred grinned and ran back into the kitchen.

“Finally!” he cried and jumped into his chair and began scarfing down the food.

_Knock, knock, knock._

Arthur had just put his fork in his mouth when heard someone knock on the door. America immediately jumped out of his seat, wanting to answer the door.

“I’ll get it Alfred,” England told America. “Stay in your seat.” Arthur stood and walked into the large living room and opened the front door.

“‘Ello England!” France chirped cheerfully. He was standing in his usual flashy outfit with a child that looked just like America on his hip. The little boys face was buried in Francis’ shoulder. Arthur groaned inwardly but plastered a grin on his face.

“Hello frog. To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked, purposefully blocking the doorway. France smirked and switched the child to his other hip.

“I just came to make sure you remembered about ze meeting zis afternoon,” Francis said nonchalantly. Arthur’s thick eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

“Huh? What meeting...” he trailed off as he remembered inviting a few of the countries of to his and Alfred’s house in America. He mentally smacked himself and called Alfred into the living room.

“Yes sir?” he replied as he walked in, not taking notice of the people at the door. England squatted down to the boy’s level, completely ignoring France now.

“I need you to go upstairs and get a bath and put on your best clothes. I forgot we had quests coming and I have to clean the house and have you looking your best,” he told America quickly. The little boy opened his mouth to protest but Arthur cut him off. “Please Al. This is extremely important.” Normally, Alfred would’ve gone hysterical and thrown a huge fit, but he saw how immediately stressed out Arthur was and nodded his head willingly. “Good boy,” Arthur said and kissed the top of the child’s golden hair. Alfred finally looked up and saw France holding his brother.

“Mattie!!” he cried. Matthew looked down and saw Alfred. A huge smile lit his face and he began to squirm, trying to get out of Francis’ grasp.

“Al!” he replied happily. France sat the eager child down, grinning at the shy, tiny nation. Canada hardly ever got this excited and was never this loud, unless he got to see his brother. Matthew immediately ran towards his brother, hugging him. Alfred returned it and whispered something in his twin’s ear. Matthew nodded and they immediately scampered upstairs to hopefully take their baths.

“Would you like any 'elp Arzur?” England whipped around only currently remembering that Canada was with France. He looked at his fellow nation and sighed.

“Yes, but keep your bloody hands to yourself, git” he muttered and stood aside, allowing Francis inside. “As much as it pains me, I believe thanks are required,” Arthur said through gritted teeth. France turned, grinning with an eyebrow raised.

“Excusez-moi?” the French nation mocked.

“Thank you. If not for you, the other countries would’ve showed up and my place would’ve been in such a terrible state.” He gestured to the room. “So, thank you.” Francis stared for a moment before bowing.

“You are welcome, mon ami,” he replied almost kindly. “So, shall we get to work on zis dump?” he asked, his smirk returning once more. England rolled his eyes, ignoring the insult.

“Yes, let’s get started.”

Arthur and Francis cleaned the house, picking things up and dusting were the main priorities. Alfred finally came out of the bathroom, fresh and smelling much cleaner. Matthew slowly stepped out, following quietly behind.

“England!!” America called,” England! I’m clean!” He ran through the house, a towel wrapped precariously around his small waist. Arthur walked out of the kitchen and saw the wet colony running about.

“Alfred!” he cried when he saw him. “Why don’t you have any clothes on?” Alfred giggled and shrugged his thin shoulders. “Come here you,” England said, beckoning the boy over. America ran and leapt at the nation. Arthur caught him with a loud ‘oomph’ and started walking upstairs, setting the child on his hip. “Where’s Matthew?” he asked.

“Upstairs. He was going to get France,” America replied. As Arthur was about to walk into Alfred’s room, a voice spoke up behind him.

“Arzur.” England looked around and saw France. “It ‘as been such a long journey and I was wondering-”

“Just don’t use all the hot water. I still have to get my own bath,” Arthur cut him off. France grinned and turned into one of the spare bedrooms.

“I’ll be right out Mattie.” The boy mumbled a reply and France hurried into the bathroom

“Frog,” Arthur muttered.

“Arthur. Who’s coming?” America asked as they walked into his room. England sat him on his bed and began pulling out some of the child’s best clothes.

“A few of my fellow countries,” he replied. “And we have to discuss some important matters, alright?” Alfred nodded. “And remember, you must call me England while they’re here if you’re down where we're talking. You can’t switch between my names,” he instructed as he handed the young nation his clothes. As he began to pull them on, Alfred looked at his brother.

“Why do I need to act so different around these guys?” he inquired, quirking an eyebrow. Arthur looked up at him.

“Well,” Arthur said, trying to rack his brain for an explanation the boy could understand. “They just wouldn’t understand. We’re just a bit different and they don’t like different,” he tried to tell him. Alfred scrunched his eyebrows together and had a look of determined concentration on his face. “You’ll understand when you’re older, I promise,” he told Alfred.

“Okay,” America said softly. He finished pulling on the too tight clothes. He wriggled and squirmed, trying to make the breeches and stiff collared shirt fit comfortably. “I know you don’t like them, but as soon as the other countries leave today, I’ll let you play in your favorite mud puddle as long as you like. Is that fair?” England asked. He knew he’d regret this deal, but it made Alfred perk up and nod.

“Yes sir! Thank you!” he replied. As Arthur stood up he heard the bathroom door open. _Well, that was quick._

“I’ve got to get a bath. Behave and try not to get dirty,” he told the small nation. Alfred nodded and watched Arthur walk out of his room.

“Francis!” England called. He walked into his large guest bedroom and found France pulling on a crisp white shirt. He looked at the bed and saw Canada curled up fast asleep. “France. I’m going to get a bath. Behave and don’t you dare lay a finger on him,” Arthur warned, pointing at the blonde country. Francis threw his hands up in surrender, smirking.

“Oui, oui, of course,” he replied. Arthur sighed and walked back out into the hall. He made his way down the hall to his bathroom. The small of rich, fancy perfume clogged his lungs immediately. He resisted the urge to gag and closed the door. He removed his clothes and prepared his bath. He slipped silently into the hot water and let it wash over him. He rested his head against the edge of the bathtub for a moment before submerging completely. He came back up and scrubbed his hair, and then cleaned the rest of his body. He stood up and drained the water. He dried himself off and looked around for his good clothes.

 _Son of a tart!_ He’d left them in his room! He wrapped the towel tightly around his waist. He opened the bathroom door and checked to make sure France wasn’t prowling the hall and quickly hopped to his room. He changed quickly into his dark trousers, white shirt and brown vest. He made his way downstairs and smelled something delicious through the kitchen doors. _Frog!_ He walked in and saw America and Canada sitting next to one another at the table while Francis brought their plates to them.

“‘Ello England. I ‘ope you do not mind. Little America was positively starving,” Francis said. Arthur raised an eyebrow and joined Matthew, Francis and Alfred at the table.

“He's always hungry,” he said, grinning and winking playfully at Alfred. The boy chuckled and continued eating hungrily and talking softly with Mathew. Arthur noticed his teacup was on the table with a steaming brew inside. “You didn’t poison it, did you?” Arthur asked as he grabbed the delicate cup, eyeing the tea within.

“Mon ami, I would never!” France actually looked somewhat offended. England raised a dubious eyebrow and took a small sip. The hot liquid spread through him immediately, soothing him.

“Thank you Francis. I needed this,” he said graciously. France nodded in reply. “What time is it?” he asked the flirtatious country.

“Almost two, I believe. The other countries will be here in another hour or so,” he informed England. The nation nodded and continued drinking his tea. It hadn’t seemed like it had taken that long with everything this morning.

“That should be fine,” he replied. “Remember America, you and Canada just stay up stairs and out of the way while they’re here.” The two boys nodded and pushed their plates forward together.

“Yes sir. May we be excused?” the colony asked politely. Arthur nodded and laced his fingers together in front of him. The twins jumped down and quickly headed outside. _He can be a polite little gentleman when he wants to be,_ Arthur though, resting his head on his fingers. 

Arthur and Francis spent the remaining time idly chatting and tidying up here and there. Eventually they heard a loud knock. England straightened his clothes and went to answer the door.

“France, find Matthew and Alfred and make sure they know they’re arriving.” France nodded and hurried out of the room. Arthur turned the knob and opened the door. “Ah, Austria. It’s a pleasure to see you,” he said, motioning for the country to come it.

“Likevise,” Austria scoffed as he entered, looking around him critically. “Is anyone else here yet?” he asked.

“France,” Britain replied, walking into his sitting room and taking a seat. Austria nodded, following suit.

“Naturally.” The two sat quietly until France walked downstairs.

“Ah, ‘ello Austria. ‘Ow are you today?” he asked loudly, coming over and joining the two. While France and Austria made small talk, England stood up, excusing himself to say he was going to make some tea. While he was in the kitchen, someone else knocked on the door and he heard France greet Spain. He finished quickly, not wanting to leave the poor nations alone with France.

He walked in and saw the countries talking quietly. He set the tea tray down softly. He was about to sit down across from Spain, but the door swung open, the person not even bothering to knock.

“Ze awesome Prussia had arrived!” The albino nation strutted into the living room, his cape billowing out behind him. “Vell, are ve going to have zis meeting or vhat?” he said, flopping down and stretching as much as he could on Arthur’s couch. The other four nations rolled their eyes at and the meeting started.

 

Alfred and Matthew sat in the small colony’s room, playing with his toy soldiers as they waited for Arthur’s meeting to end. They’d been playing with his toys for over thirty minutes and it was starting to seriously bore Alfred. The men downstairs had been talking for almost two and a half hours. He set the soldiers down and looked at his brother.

“How about we go downstairs and listen in on what those other guys are talking about?” he offered excitedly. Matthew looked at him before scrunching his nose a little.

“I’d better stay here. I’ve never been good at all that spying and sneaking stuff,” he mumbled. America rolled his eyes and stood.

“Okay, suit yourself,” he said and quietly walked out of his room into the hallway. He carefully tiptoed down the stairs. He didn’t think the countries would mind too much if he just sat outside and listened, and Mattie could’ve come, he just didn’t want to get in trouble with France. he knew the feeling though. He hated it when Arthur was mad at him. He felt like he’d disappointed the older nation.

He made it down the stairs and to the living room doorway and sat down. He could hear the five countries talking to each other somewhat heatedly.

“Zere’s no vay you can care for him!” someone said in a thick German accent. _Prussia? Maybe?_ “He’s a little brat!”

“And why can’t 'e?! I care for my little Matzew and you nations 'ave never 'ad problem wiz it before!” France cried indignantly. He heard a few nations huff. _Matthew? Why were they talking about his brother?_

“No matter. England, I zought you only wanted ze boy for his resources und taxes,” he heard a posh accent talk to his older brother. He heard the clink of porcelain and a tired mutter of quiet, unintelligible words. America didn’t dare move a muscle, much less breathe, for fear of being heard.

“I believe I must care for America if I am to obtain those things, should I not?” he heard England reply softly. _They were talking about him? Why were they talking to Arthur about him?_

“But, mi amigo, must you show such… affection for the child? It seems you are getting quite attached to the little muchacho.” A Spanish accent entered the mix.

“What? Would you like me to say I don’t care for him. That I don’t love him? That I shouldn’t nurture and show him the affection he deserves? He’s my brother, for heaven’s sake!!” Arthur was shouting now. “I’ve been given the boy to take care of but if that’s how you feel, so be it!!” he cried passionately. America stared blankly at the off-white egg colored wall in front of him, tears forming in his bright, crystal blue eyes. He was only registering one thing.

 _Arthur… doesn’t love me? I thought he promised me… He’s not going to take care of me… anymore… ever?_ He didn’t hear the rest of the argument as he stood up suddenly. He didn’t care if he made noise or not anymore, he just had to get out of that house. He ran into the hall and quickly out the backdoor, passing Matthew as he went. Canada had finally come downstairs and gave him a confused looked as he charged past into the backyard, disappearing into the wilderness.

~

“… so be it!!” England cried loudly. His gaze met with all the nations, including Francis, who was wearing a subtle look of pride, like he knew what was coming. “But believe me! If those are your demands, I’ll be damned if I listened!! I wouldn’t turn my back on America if my life depended on it!” He stood up abruptly and stalked towards the exit, his vision fuzzy through the red haze he was seeing through. He was fuming, still absolutely furious at the nations for insinuating such a ludicrous, preposterous idea!

Why was he being chastised anyway? Francis had made a valid point when he mentioned that he cared for Matthew, and come to think of it, Spain had Romano that he took care of as well. _Am I not allowed to love someone?!_ he cried mentally, hurrying to the back of the house, trying to get outside. _And be loved in return?_ He walked outside, blinking back tears. Canada was standing alone in the large field behind their house. It was wonderful because the field was almost entirely surrounded by forest.

“Matthew?” The small boy turned around, his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “Where’s Alfred?” he asked. The small nation shrugged his shoulders and pointed towards the trees. “He went that way. He looked like he was crying,” he replied softly. Arthur sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d thought he’d heard the light, scuffled sound of footsteps after he’d yelled at the other countries. Alfred had heard him, but not everything he’d said. _He must think I hate him!_ He hurried towards Canada and rubbed his head.

“I’m going to look for him. If France comes looking, tell him I’ll be back soon,” he told the small boy. He took off at a sprint, running in the direction that Matthew had pointed at. He fought the trees and bushes, trying to make his way through the thick forest. He stopped, bent over with his hands on his knees panting. _Alfred knows these woods better than I ever will. He can hide and hop to wherever he wants and never be found,_ he thought as the sun started setting through the trees. Tears suddenly sprung to his and they were spilling over before he could stop them.

“Al…” he choked. He leaned heavily on a tree next to him. “I swear I didn’t mean it,” he said, sinking to the ground. He buried his face in his hands. “Please Alfred,” he whispered. “I’m sorry… I’m so, so sorry…” His tears were pouring uncontrollably. The only person he’d ever loved was gone and probably hated him. He could feel his heart breaking all over again.

“England,” a soft voice whispered, interrupting his thoughts. Arthur’s head shot up and he saw him. Sweet, little, seven year old Alfred. His eyes were red and tears were falling steadily from the bright, too blue, crystalline orbs. His face was splotchy and hurt was written across the entirety of his young features. His best clothes were torn and filthy, but Arthur couldn’t have cared less.

“Alfred!” he cried, “Alfred! I’m so, so, so sorry!! I didn’t mean anything that I said! You ran off before you heard me finish!” he said hurriedly, holding his arms out desperately to the small colony. “I’m so, so sorry. I swear Alfred! I love you and would never ever even think of leaving you!! I’m so sorry!” he pleaded, trying to stop his crying.

Alfred looked Arthur over. His bright green eyes were desperate and sad, glistening with tears. Alfred had only ever seen Arthur cry when he was really and truly upset. England was very good at holding in his emotions, but sometimes everything just kind of got to him. The boy sighed shakily, he absolutely hated when Arthur cried. Alfred bit his lip and gave his brother one last look. He immediately threw himself at the older nation. How could he even think that Arthur didn’t love him? He wrapped his thin, wiry arms around the blonde’s neck and sobbed.

“A-Arthur… why? What d-do they w-want? W-why don’t t-they w-want you t-to love m-me?” he asked into Arthur’s neck. Arthur sighed and returned the hug. He gently pulled out of the boy’s amazingly strong grasp and wiped his tears away with his thumb.

_Come stop you crying. It will be alright. Just take my hand, hold it tight. I will protect you from all around you. I will be here. Don’t you cry._

Alfred’s eyes widened as Arthur started singing. Arthur hardly ever sang, but Al was amazed every time he did. Arthur smiled down at him, moving golden strands of hair out of the boys blue eyes.

_For one so small, you seem so strong. My arms will hold you, keep you safe and warm. This bond between us can’t be broken. I will be here, don’t you cry._

Arthur stood up, bringing Alfred with him. He held the small boy in his arms, holding him close. Alfred wrapped his arms once more around Arthur’s neck. The Brit started making his way back to the house.

_Cause you’ll be in my heart. Yes, you’ll be in my heart. From this day on, no and for ever more. You’ll be in my heart. No matter what they say. You’ll be here my heart, always._

As Arthur walked, he grabbed one of Alfred’s small hands and pressed it to his chest, where his heart was. Alfred looked up at him and Arthur smiled back. They walked through the forest and made it back to the house, England humming the entire way. They silently entered the house and Arthur saw the countries filing out of his house.

_Why can’t they understand the way we feel? They just don’t trust what they can’t explain. I know we’re different but deep inside us, we’re not that different at all._

The blonde walked up the stairs to Alfred’s room. He could feel the boy going limp in his arm from the day’s exhaustion. He sensed someone behind him and threw a glance over his shoulder. France stood there, Matthew in his own arms. Arthur nodded, signaling for him to follow.

_And you’ll be in my heart. Yes, you’ll be in my heart. From this day on, now and forever more._

_Don’t listen to them, cause’ what do they know (what do they know)? We need each other, to have to hold. They’ll see in time. I know._

Francis had followed and let his voice echo Arthur's. He watched as he held his own tired nation. Arthur set Alfred on his bed and watched the child rub his eyes tiredly. He found a nightgown in the colony’s drawers and pulled it out. He handed them to the child and helped him change.

_When destiny calls you, you must be strong (you gotta be strong). I may not be with you, but you’ve got to hold on. They’ll see in time, I know. We’ll show them together._

He helped tuck America into his bed, gently kissing his forehead. Alfred grinned weakly, forcing his eyes to stay open so he could hear England finish singing. Arthur looked behind him at Francis. He stood up quickly, grabbing another nightgown from Alfred chest of drawers for Matthew. He handed them to France and smiled. He turned back to Alfred.

_Cause you’ll be in my heart. Believe me you’ll be in my heart. I’ll be there from this day on, now and forever more._

France laid Matthew down next to his brother and the two immediately latched onto one another. The two older nations smiled and kissed the boys foreheads and said their goodnight as Arthur finished singing.

_Oh, you’ll be in my heart (you’ll be here in my heart). No matter what they say (I’ll be with you). You’ll be here in my heart (I’ll be there), always. Always._

France and England stood up, making their way to the door. They turned back to the twins, grinning somewhat sleepily themselves.

_I’ll be will you. I’ll be there for you always. Always and always. Just look over your shoulder. Just look over your shoulder. Just look over your shoulder._

“Arthur,” America mumbled thickly, raising his head as his brother finished singing. “I love you.” Matthew also looked up blearily, trying to focus on Francis.

“I love you too, Francis,” he said, his words slurring together out of exhaustion. The two men smiled.

“I love you too,” they replied simultaneously. They walked out and shut the door quietly behind him. France abruptly stuck out his hand.

“‘Ow about truce, just until we leave?” he said. Arthur eyed the Frenchman’s hand doubtfully.

“I’m not going to sleep with you,” he stated firmly. Francis rolled his eyes.

“I did not mean it like zat, but if you wish…” he grinned suggestively. Arthur sighed and took his outstretched hand.

“Fine, only until you leave.” They shook hands and went to their separate rooms. England quickly changed into his own night gown and lay down in his bed. He closed his eyes and murmured the last line of the song to himself.

_I’ll be there, always._

He smiled and started to fall asleep until a sudden thought struck him. Until we leave. He sat up, emerald eyes wide.

“How long will the bloody git be staying?!?”


End file.
